


Special

by notebookthief



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, b ut i abandoned that fic due to life, originally wrote this for oisuga back in january, so now its revamped and here on its own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7165346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notebookthief/pseuds/notebookthief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Oikawa takes a step back from him, stumbling over a volleyball, knocking several away from his feet. "I don't want it," he says. He refuses to look at Suga, whose mouth twists and thins. "I'm fine."</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"You're not," Suga says firmly, reasoning with him. Soon he will move to bargaining if Oikawa continues like this. Three times is a pattern. He recognized it halfway through the second argument.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special

**Author's Note:**

> hah a... yes... i know im on hiatus.... but i felt really bad tonight and i was like "hm i havent written anything in forever lets write!!" and then i had 0 ideas and i stumbled upon this from oisuga week back in january??? i wrote it with a monologue i'd written for school in mind (tho the monologue is very different haha). but yeah since life got in the way of finishing that fic, im just gonna... post this on its own w the little revamp i did for it!! even tho i have uncompleted works lmao  
> i also find it funny that i wrote this bc i dont really think that oikawa would do this to himself!!! but its okay bc the fic is already here

“Oikawa, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Oikawa jerks upwards from his stooped position, bending to pick up a ball. He glares at Suga, who has just stepped into the otherwise empty gym unannounced. His arms are crossed over his chest, expression heavy, stern, practically motherly. He grits his teeth, wonders if Iwaizumi sent him. Wonders if he's become predictable.

"I'm not finished yet," he says, too sharp even to his own ears. Suga bristles, the muscles in his arms tightening.

The ground beneath Oikawa's feet is littered with volleyballs, and he can feel the fatigue dragging his body down, but he can't stop. He won't stop. He grabs a ball off the floor, like he had intended, for another serve.

Suga's hands are shaky when he unwinds his arms and storms over. "Listen to me," he seethes. This is the third he's found Oikawa like this in the past month. Oikawa knows this. He doesn't meet his eyes. "Have you looked at yourself?"

He hasn't. He doesn't want to, refuses to. He can hardly stand his own reflection right now, has been neglecting his usual daily skin care routine. Suga knows this without being told.

"You're a wreck," he says, softer this time, gently reaching to take the ball from Oikawa's shaking hands. Her jerks back when the pad of Suga's thumb brushes his knuckle.

"I'm not finished," he repeats. His voice is shaking now, too. He clutches the ball in both bands to make it stop.

"Oikawa-"

"I have to keep going," he says. "I have to. I can't let something so small be a setback."

"This isn't small!" Suga tells him, his voice raising again in frustration. It rings through the gym, echoing and making him seem larger than he is. "Tooru, you nearly broke your leg! You're lucky it was a sprain!"

"And it's healed!" he says defiantly.

"It's heal _ing_ ," Suga amends for him. "It's not healed. You're not supposed to be on it at this force for at least another two weeks."

"I don't care!" he cries. He sounds like a petulant child. It gives him a bitter taste in his mouth. "You would do the same!"

"I would not, and I know," he replies. "I know. That's why I'm here. I'm here to care."

Oikawa takes a step back from him, stumbling over a volleyball, knocking several away from his feet. "I don't want it," he says. He refuses to look at Suga, whose mouth twists and thins. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Suga says firmly, reasoning with him. Soon he will move to bargaining if Oikawa continues like this. Three times is a pattern. He recognized it halfway through the second argument.

He feels trapped, even in the open space of the gym, like the volleyballs are crowding him. He wants to sink to the floor and curl himself around his knees. He wants to hit another hundred serves. He wants to smother himself with a volleyball. He wants Suga to stop looking at him like he’s a frightened animal that needs consoling. The silence presses down on him.

He shatters it. “What else am I supposed to do?” he asks brokenly. His hands have started shaking again; he squeezes the volleyball with only his fingers, palms out. It stops the shaking.

He lets Suga, who takes delicate, near-silent steps, get close this time. “Let yourself heal so you can work twice as hard as you did before,” he says gently, folding his hands over Oikawa’s.

“What if that’s not enough?”

“It will be,” Suga assures him. “You’ll heal, you’ll continue playing for the university, you’ll make yourself the official setter. You’ll go pro. You’ll play for Japan. You’ll be special.”

He blows out a shaky breath for as long as he can before Suga can tell him to. “I want to be special.”

“You are,” he says, stroking his thumbs over Oikawa's hands. “You will be.”

Suga takes the volleyball from Oikawa’s hands and drops it to the floor with the others. He wraps his arms around his torso gently, like he's afraid too much contact at once will startle him. Oikawa can’t lift his arms to reciprocate, but it’s okay. He remembers to breathe.

“You’re special too,” he says into Suga’s hair. It’s a half lie.

“I’m not,” he replies, squeezing him slightly. “But you make me want to be.”


End file.
